


Happenstance/Serendipity

by WildCat (SpiritLock)



Series: Random Musings [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Life Imitating Art, art imitating life, fantasy/reality, luck/fate, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 04:22:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16078325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiritLock/pseuds/WildCat
Summary: A hotel and a chance meeting for two people. Luck or fate?





	Happenstance/Serendipity

“Excuse me, is this chair taken?”

She vaguely heard the words the first time, overly focused imagining how her protagonist might respond in the situation, fingers lingering over the keys of her tablet. The hotel lobby always had a few people drifting through, and she tended to zone out the background chatter.

The male voice asked again, loud enough to break through her concentration and cause Evi to look up.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Evi quickly cleared her throat covering the intake of breath when she stared up into the man’s face. She wasn’t expecting this and was initially caught unawares. 

“Please,” she offered with a calm smile, gesturing to the armchair he was standing beside.

He nodded. “Thank you.”

Evi’s surface calm belied her thoughts, a flustered _Oh Maker_. But Evi had years of practice disguising her emotions and sustaining a steady façade. It had kept her alive on numerous occasions. As he sat, setting his coffee cup onto the small circular table, she hastily scanned him.

He was as close to HIM as a real person could be. In his early thirties, around six-foot tall, sturdily built, sandy hair and amber eyes, but the hair was longer, and he had a beard, clipped close. A strong face with slight wrinkling around the eyes, dimpled chin and attractive lips. The resemblance wasn’t exact, but impressive nevertheless. 

Fantasy characters weren’t supposed to exist in the real world. Especially not the one that she fantasied about, along with…

_Oh, for Andraste’s sake!_

She stared down at her keypad, then the screen, dismissing the accompanying thoughts trying to squirm their way in. 

It was happenstance she told herself, this isn’t HIM. He just looks uncannily like the character in Inquisition. HER version existed outside of the game, in her head, evolved alongside her concept of Trevelyan. A paring she kept returning to even though she played other origins and other romances. Somehow, they never gelled the same way for Evi. The game had been her escape to a fantasy world where she could block out her real life. Until her own life mirrored the game. 

With enforced time off from her injury, and not able to play, she resolved to head to the coast for a few weeks. Spend time wandering on the beach, maybe even write the stories rolling around in her imagination. Yet the words she sought before became even more elusive now. All because of a man who bore a striking resemblance to Cullen Stanton Rutherford sitting in an armchair at her right. 

“Are you staying here?” he inquired a little cautiously.

Cullen’s doppelganger clearly wished to chat yet extended a choice with the seemingly straightforward question. She could give him a brief reply and return to her writing…or advance the conversation. She looked up to catch him smiling and smiled back. He looked even better when he smiled.

“Yes,” she acknowledged, choosing to take the plunge and chat with him. What harm could there be? “Are you staying here?”

“Yes, a friend suggested it…” he ran his fingers through his hair, a little tentative, “…as a quiet place to spend some time.”

This modest hotel was precisely that, old fashioned and sedate. It held fond memories from Evi’s childhood when her parents brought her here on holiday. Not every year, but sufficient for it to feel familiar. And right now, a familiar place provided reassurance. 

“It’s definitely that,” she observed, leaning forward to whisper. “Most of the guests here are….”

“So it would seem,” he acknowledged, clearly following her unspoken word. There was a modest upturn in the side of his mouth, practically a smirk. 

If he continued like this, her ability to hide emotions would forsake her. He wasn’t HIM, but Maker’s breath, it was becoming tougher to distinguish. He shifted to face her, holding out his right hand to Evi, evidently to introduce himself. Evi now realised why he sat on her right, when there was a perfectly good chair on her left. 

“I’m Cullen Rutherford. But my friends call me Cul.”

This had become beyond bizarre. She blinked hard, momentarily thrown, then recovering her composure. 

“Evelyn Trevelyan,” she replied, taking his hand with her right one, her remaining hand. “But my friends call me Evi.”

His gaze briefly widened, his hand squeezing hers lightly before letting go. It left Evi a little puzzled. Her surprise was understandable, but why would he be. When he spoke, the surprise was gone.

“Pleased to meet you, Evi,” Cul smiled disarmingly.

Evi grinned. “You too, Cul.”

The lunch bell rang, briefly diverting their attention. When she turned back, she caught him watching her, expression hopeful.

Cul cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose you’d like to have lunch together and talk more?” 

Evi grinned again, thinking, _are you serious?_ “I’d like that, Cul.”

“Good,” he declared, picking up his knapsack before standing up.

Evi snapped shut her tablet setting it on the table and picked up her bag, carefully placing the tablet inside. She laid the strap over her shoulder and headed to the dining room, Cul politely following behind. She was having lunch with a man she met barely moments before, but somehow it didn’t seem awkward. It was a chance to talk to him and discover who he really was. HER Cullen was imaginary. Cul was a real person.

As Evi walked ahead, Cul still couldn’t believe this was happening. 

This stay was meant to be a few weeks break after almost relapsing following his sister’s death. To stop him sinking back into the addiction. His friend had claimed this place was appropriately dull with most of the clientele over seventy. A quiet environment, no stress, no distractions. Caught on a mission and tortured, at first the pain medication was necessary, but later it grew into a prop he couldn’t let go of. Unable to remain in the army, he received a medical discharge and began the slow road of weaning himself off the drugs. 

His friend was partially wrong, but the distraction he found was a good one.

Initially Cul began playing Inquisition as merely another night-time diversion from the dreams that occasionally still plagued him. In the game he discovered a character who scarily resembled him, even down to the trauma and withdrawal from addiction. A character who one could redeem, or not. Even so, he mostly played for the objectives, the missions, things so familiar in his previous life. And the trophies. 

But there was one trophy, where he abandoned playing as male as he ordinarily did and instead played as a woman. It took Cul ages to create HER to romance his namesake in the game. Somewhere along the story arc he began to imagine their interactions beyond the world of the game, like scenes in a play.

When Cul spotted Evi sitting in the corner, he had to talk to her. Talk to this woman who looked so much like HIS Inquisitor. HIS Evi Trevelyan. Evi wasn’t exactly HER, yet the resemblance was striking. However, this Evi was real, and he truly wanted to get to know her. And not simply because she paralleled the character he developed a profound affection for. Like her namesake Evi had lost her left forearm, and not that long ago judging by the manner she held it. She too was coming to terms with trauma, just like him. 

As Cul caught up with Evi she turned and offered him a captivating smile with a hint of mischievousness. He sensed she would understand when he told her. Perhaps they could find some comfort with one another, even if only friendship. But perhaps more…if she wanted to.

Happenstance, his sister called times like these. To him, serendipity sounded more apt in the circumstances.


End file.
